Tom Burke Of "Ours"

Chapter 121

"Take a 'Saunders,' yer honor, and I 'll tell you."

"Here, then, here's fippence; and now for the explanation."

"Molly Crownahon, yer honor, was, like us poor craytures, always grateful and contented wid the Lord's goodness to us, even in taking away our chief comfort and blessing,--the darling up there on the horse!

(Ah, 'tis an elegant sate ye have, without stirrups!) And she went one day to say a handful of prayers oyer his grave,--the husband's, ye mind,--and sure if she did, when she knelt down on the gra.s.s she sprung up again as quick as she went down, for the nettles was all over the place entirely. 'Bad scran to ye, Peter!' says she, as she rubbed her legs,--'bad scran to ye! living or dead, there was always a sting in ye.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: 414]

As the latter part of this speech was addressed in a tone of apostrophe to the statue of King William, it was received by the a.s.sembled crowd with a roar of laughter.

By this time I had entered the house, and only bethought me how little suited was the great hotel of the city to pretensions as humble as mine.

It was now, however, too late to retreat, and I entered the coffee-room, carrying my knapsack in my hand. As I pa.s.sed up the room in search of a vacant table, the looks of astonishment my appearance excited on each side were most palpable evidences that the company considered me as an interloper. While some contented themselves with a stare of steady surprise, others, less guarded in their impertinence, whispered with, and even winked at their neighbors, to attract attention towards me.

Offensive as this unquestionably was, it amazed even more than it annoyed me. In France, such a display of feeling would have been impossible; and the humblest soldier of the army would not have been so received had he deemed fit to enter Beauvilliers' or Very's.

Whether hurt at this conduct, and consequently more alive to affront from any quarter, or that the waiters partic.i.p.ated in the sentiments of their betters, I cannot exactly say; but I certainly thought their manner even less equivocally betrayed the same desire of impertinence.

This was not long a mere suspicion on my part; for on inquiring whether I could have a room for the night, the waiter, touching my knapsack, which lay on the ground beside me, with his foot, replied,--

"Is this your luggage, sir?"

Amazement so completely mastered my indignation at this insolence, that I could make no answer but by a look. This had its effect, however; and the fellow, without further delay, bustled off to make the inquiry.

He returned in a few minutes with a civil message, that I could be accommodated, and having placed before me the simple meal I ordered, retired.

As I sat over my supper, I could not help feeling that unless memory played me false, the company were little like the former frequenters of this house. I remembered it of old, when Bubbleton and his brother officers came there; and when the rooms were thronged with members of both Houses of Parliament,--when peers and gentlemen of the first families were grouped about the windows and fireplaces, and the highest names of the land were heard in the din of recognition; handsome equipages and led horses stood before the doors. But now the ragged mob without was scarce a less worthy successor to the brilliant display than were the company within to the former visitants. A tone of pretentious impertinence, an air of swagger and mock defiance,--the most opposite to the polished urbanity which once prevailed,--was now conspicuous; and in their loud speech and violent gesticulation, it was easy to mark how they had degenerated from that high standard which made the Irish gentleman of his day the most polished man of Europe.

If in

Such were some of the changes I could mark, even as I sat. But my attention was speedily drawn from them by a circ.u.mstance more nearly concerning myself. This was the appearance in the coffee-room of the gentleman who first addressed me in the street.

As he pa.s.sed round the room, followed by a person whose inferiority was evident, he was recognized by most of those present, many of whom shook him warmly by the hand, and pressed him to join their parties. But this he declined, as he continued to walk slowly on, scrutinizing each face as he went. At last I saw his eyes turn towards me. It was scarcely a glance, so rapid was it, and so quickly were his looks directed to a different quarter; but I could mark that he whispered something to a person who followed, and then, after carelessly turning over a newspaper on the table, sauntered from the room. As he did so, the s.h.a.ggy head of the dwarf newsvendor peeped in, and the great black eyes took a survey of the coffee-room, till finally they settled on me.

"Ah!" cried the fellow, with a strange blending of irony and compa.s.sion in his voice; "be gorra, I knew how it would be,--the major has ye!" At this a general laugh broke out from all present, and every eye was fixed on me.

Meanwhile the follower had taken his place nearly opposite me at the table, and was busily engaged examining a paper which he had taken from his pocket.

"May I ask, sir, if your name be Burke?" said he, in a low voice, across the table.

I started with amazement to hear my name p.r.o.nounced where I believed myself so completely a stranger, and in my astonishment, forgot to answer.

"I was asking, sir--" repeated he.

"Yes, you are quite correct," interrupted I; "that is my name. May I beg to know, in return, for what purpose you make the inquiry?"

"Thomas Burke, sir?" continued he, inattentive to my observation, and apparently about to write the name on the paper before him.

I nodded, and he wrote down the words.

"That saves a deal of trouble to all of us, sir," said he, as he finished writing. "This is a warrant for your arrest; but the major is quite satisfied if you can give bail for your appearance."

"Arrest!" repeated I; "on what charge am I arrested?"

"You'll hear in the morning, I suppose," said he, quietly. "What shall we say about the bail? Have you any acquaintance or friend in town?"

"Neither; I am a perfect stranger here. But if you are authorized to arrest me, I here surrender myself at once."

By this time, several persons of the coffee-room had approached the table, and among the rest the gentleman who so politely made way for me in the crowd to reach the door.

"What is it, Roche?" said he, addressing the man at the table; "a warrant?"

"Yes, sir; for this gentleman here. But we can take bail, if he has it."

"I have told you already that I am a stranger, and know no one here."

The gentleman threw his eyes over the warrant, and then looking me steadily in the face, muttered in a whisper to the officer, "Why, he must have been a boy, a mere child, at the time."

"Very true, sir; but the major says it must be done. Maybe you'd bail him yourself."

These words were added in a tone of half irony, as the fellow gave a sly look beneath his eyelashes.

"I tell you, again," said I, impatient at the whole scene, "I am quite ready to accompany you."

"Is this your name, sir?" said the strange gentleman, addressing me, as he pointed to the warrant.

"Yes," interposed the officer, "there's no doubt about that; he gave it himself."

"Come, come, then, Roche," said he, cajolingly; "these are not times for undue strictness. Let the gentleman remain where he is to-night, and to-morrow he will attend you. You can remain here, if you like, with him."

"If you say so, I suppose we may do it," replied the officer, as he folded up the paper, and arose from the table.

"Yes, yes; that's the proper course. And now," said he, addressing me, "will you permit me to join you while I finish this bottle of claret?"

I could have no objection to so pleasant a proposal; and thus, for the time at least, ended this disagreeable affair.

CHAPTER x.x.xV. AN UNFORSEEN EVIL

"I perceive, sir," said the stranger, seating himself at my table, "they are desirous to restore an antiquated custom in regard to you. I thought the day of indemnities was past and gone forever."

"I am ignorant to what you allude."

"The authorities would make you out an emissary of France, sir,--as if France had not enough on her hands already, without embroiling herself in a quarrel from which no benefit could accrue; not to speak of the little likelihood that any one on such an errand would take up his abode, as you have, in the most public hotel of Dublin."

"I have no apprehensions as to any charges they may bring against me.

I am conscious of no crime, saving having left my country a boy, and returning to it a man."

"You were in the service of France, then?"



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